Odds and Ends
by Muriel Candytuft
Summary: In which Remy, Linguini, and Colette reflect on the rather unconventional decorations they've each chosen for their home. Hokey title, I know.


Odds and Ends

_Well, _of course_ this is a way for me to stall until I can find good endings for my other stories!_

OoOoOoOoOoO

_Rémy_

I picked out those glass jars on the windowsill over there. They were spice jars, actually, left over from the bistro. Colette was going to put them out to be recycled, but I managed to salvage a few of them before closing the other night.

At first glance, they're not terribly exciting. Just little glass vials. But sometimes, I can still smell the spices. It's like aromatic ghosts are melting through the glass – ghosts of cardamom, rosemary, cinnamon, ginger, and thyme.

Linguini set my bed up in this windowsill, so I have these glass jars, laid out in a triangle like bowling pins, near the opposite side, across from me. When I wake up, the first thing I see is the six o'clock sunshine and how the mild light slants through those glass jars. They sparkle, throwing white shadows of light behind them, refracting and reflecting themselves into a dazzling spectacle, a sensory overload. And all the while, the faded scents from the long-ago used-up spices float in the warm air, making my nose twitch and my nerves tingle. I'm invigorated; anxious to get up, grab a mixing spoon and some spices, and try some new, outlandish recipe out.

As a human might say, it's better than crack.

_Linguini_

Yeah, those stars on the ceiling – those are mine. I put them up there last Tuesday, and it wasn't easy, my arms still hurt. They glow in the dark. Which is kind of cool, I like glow-in-the-dark stars. (I just never understood why glow-in-the-dark stars are always green.) I used to have these glow-in-the-dark stars and planets and comets and stuff on the ceiling, in my room when I was a kid. My mom put them up. I liked looking at them when I was trying to go to sleep. Because, I had a hard time getting to sleep a lot of the time when I was a kid, you know? Couldn't stop thinking long enough to shut my brain down, that's what my mom said – but I guess the stars kind of gave me, well, something to think about. Of course, I really don't sleep in the living room that often, but the Little Chef does. He can look at them when he's going to sleep. But – I don't know, last night, I was up late, and I turned off the lights and the TV and just laid on my back on the sofa and looked up at the stars, and it made me think of being a kid. One of those stars up there, the one closest to the window, actually came from my old room. When I moved out of my mom's house, I peeled all the stars off my ceiling and I lost most of them in my old apartment, but I still have a few. My mom stuck that star up on my ceiling when I was, like, seven or eight? I can't believe it still glows…

I don't know. I just like glow-in-the-dark stars.

_Colette_

Yes, those picture frames are empty. If I had pictures to put in them, I would put them in, but I have none. Not yet.

My parents gave me the frames when I left for college. They said that I would soon be filling them with pictures of grand and proud moments, or at least some photos to remind me of good times.

I never put any pictures in them. I was just too busy. Had no time to stop in the middle of every little thing I was doing to get a nice snapshot. Unlike my parents, I did not view life as a long string of photo ops. I had _homework_ to do.

Since I have begun living with Alfredo and _le petit chef_, I find my attitude has changed. The frames are on the coffee table, still shiny and still empty. I look at them and squirm, because the longer they stay empty, the faster my time with my new family is passing me by. Every day they go empty is another day that I missed a chance to snap a good picture of _le chef _sharing blueberries on the tablewith his brother; of Alfredo during the clumsy five minutes immediately after he wakes up; of the bright and exhilarating view of the Avenue des Champs-Élysées when we go for our walk on Friday evenings.

I'm not a sentimental person. But I think it's a shame that I'm letting it all pass me by.

That's why I brought out the picture frames. I have resolved to keep my camera at the ready for a little while.

OoOoOoOoOoO


End file.
